


Another Chance at Falling

by Settiai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Getting Back Together, One Shot, Regret, The Black Emporium Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 21:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/pseuds/Settiai
Summary: Cullen thought that he was seeing things that weren't there at first.





	Another Chance at Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amarmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/gifts).



Cullen thought that he was seeing things that weren't there at first. It wouldn't have been the first time he had hallucinated, even if it had been several years since the last time. Well, at least, the last time as far as he knew.

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he surreptitiously glanced around the room, taking a quick look at his fellow templars. Their own gazes seemed to be focused on the blue-and-silver-clad woman in the center of the room, a mixture of awe, surprise, and hatred on their faces depending on the person. That in itself seemed to point towards his mind not playing any tricks on him, at least not this time.

Honestly, he wasn't certain if that made things better or worse.

Letting out a breath he hadn't quite realized he was holding, Cullen turned his attention back towards the two women making their way towards the Knight Commander. Meredith was standing as still and straight as a board at the far end of the room, her eyes darting between the Warden uniform that the taller of the two women was wearing and the staff displayed proudly on her back. She clearly knew who it was that the Champion of Kirkwall had brought to see her, although how she would react was a mystery even to him.

Cullen had known that Hawke was distant cousins to Solona – that is, to Warden Commander Amell – for quite some time. Even ignoring the fact that the Champion had taken up residence in the Amell estate, just looking at Hawke was enough to make that clear. Her skin was a shade or two lighter than Solona's – than _Amell's_ – as was her hair, but the physical resemblance between them couldn't be mistaken. Still, he hadn't realized just how alike the two of them were until seeing them standing side-by-side.

It said a lot, that what had happened at Kinloch during the Blight had tainted so many of his memories. Even ones from before the terror.

He hadn't seen Sol— no, _Amell_ since the day she had saved his life. The last words he had said to her had been less than worthy, and he knew it, even if she was a mage. She'd saved him, saved so many people, and he'd had nothing but vitriol to throw at her in return.

There was a part of him that had hoped he'd never cross her path again. It would have been easier that way.

"Knight Commander Meredith."

Cullen forced himself to hold still as the achingly familiar voice rang out. It wasn't exactly the same as in his memories. Amell's voice was firmer, more like that of a leader than the bookish girl he had known. Still, the cadence was the same. He even recognized the tone of voice. She was more than irritated, probably close to furious, but she was keeping a tight lid on her anger.

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Warden Commander Amell," she said, and Cullen could practically hear the scorn dripping from her voice. "What brings such an esteemed hero to our city?"

Part of Cullen wanted to flinch at that line, but years of practice helped him hold it back. He wasn't the only templar in Kirkwall who had lived through the Blight and who owed their life to the Grey Wardens, and he knew that insulting someone that so many considered a hero wouldn't ingratiate the Knight Commander with some of the templars. Considering what morale had been like since the qunari had attacked, he couldn't help but question the wisdom of such open antagonism.

Still, he couldn't blame Meredith for her scorn, not really. While Amell was dressed in the colors of the Grey Wardens, it was still robes that she was wearing. And she was making no attempt to hide or downplay her staff. She was clearly proud to be a mage who wasn't under the control of the Chantry, and she was openly showing who and what she was.

It was dangerous.

No, that wasn't even it. _She_ was dangerous.

Cullen supposed that she always had been. He'd just been too young and blind to see it once upon a time. He hadn't realized just what mages could do back then.

"I have heard rumors that your templars have been harassing one of my Wardens who is assigned to Kirkwall," Amell said firmly, her voice loud and clear enough that everyone in the room could easily hear her despite the fact that she was talking to the Knight Commander. "That will stop. Now."

Cullen narrowed his eyes as he watched her. He'd known Solona Amell for years and, despite everything that had gone wrong, he knew when she was being less than truthful. There'd been something about her tone that hadn't sounded quite right when she'd said "assigned to Kirkwall," as if that was stretching the truth of the matter at least somewhat.

Not that it mattered all that much, in the long run. Whether she was lying or telling the truth, she was still a Grey Warden. That meant something, even in Kirkwall.

Meredith gave Amell a scornful look. "If you are speaking of the apostate in Darktown," she said, "then he is a—"

"Anders is a Grey Warden and therefore does not fall under your jurisdiction unless the Wardens ask for templar assistance," Amell cut in. "We have not done so."

It took everything Cullen had not to flinch at the look of utter loathing that Meredith shot Amell. "That _mage_ ," she spat out, "has interfered with templar matters here in Kirkwall. If he continues to do so, I will do to him as I see fit. The Chantry will support me."

Amell took a step forward, her gaze not moving from Meredith's face. She held up a piece of parchment that Cullen hadn't even noticed in her hand. "I have a letter from Val Royeaux that says otherwise."

Meredith's mouth closed with a snap.

The entire room was silent, most of the templars and mages there to witness what was happening barely even breathing as they waited to see what happened.

"Grey Wardens see to their own," Amell said, her eyes narrowed. "They are not under Chantry jurisdiction. You will leave him be, or you will answer to both Weisshaupt and Val Royeaux. Do I make myself clear?"

After a long moment, Meredith nodded. The look on her face would have had a lesser person quivering on the floor, but Amell didn't even flinch. Cullen supposed that compared to an archdemon, even the Knight Commander might seem small.

Without another word, Amell dropped the letter onto the floor where she stood. Then she turned on her heels and headed back towards the door. Cullen thought that her eyes flickered in his direction for just a second as she walked away, an unreadable look on her face, but it might have just been his imagination.

Hawke stood there for a moment, her eyes focused on Meredith as she very pointedly nudged the letter towards the Knight Commander with her foot. Without saying anything, she followed her cousin out of the room.

Hawke's hands had been on her daggers the entire time, Cullen noticed almost absentmindedly. And if he had noticed that, then Meredith would have seen it as well.

What would Hawke have done if Meredith hadn't acquiesced? What would Amell have done? More importantly, what would the mages spread throughout the room had done if the Hero of Fereldan had let her own magic loose?

Cullen narrowed his eyes, his gaze moving carefully around the room. Orsino seemed to be ushering most of his mages out of the room, a worried look on his face. The majority of the mages that had heard the conversation seemed scared and ill at ease, but there were a few who seemed bolder. They would need to be watched, to make certain they didn't do anything foolish. Or dangerous.

He wouldn't allow what had happened in Ferelden to happen here.

Seeing a fellow mage walking free and talking down to the Knight Commander, even if she was a Grey Warden, had to have made an impression on them. Possibly a fatal one.

"Knight Captain Cullen."

Cullen's gaze snapped towards Meredith. She was staring at the letter on the floor with distaste, but after a moment she looked up and met his eyes.

"Come with me," she said coolly. Her gaze darted back down toward the letter and back to him. "Bring _that_ with you."

*

Darktown was never somewhere that Cullen particularly wanted to visit, but he couldn't help but think that it seemed even more downtrodden than it had in the past. Not to mention more crowded. A lot of Kirkwall's citizens had lost everything when the qunari had attacked and while some had managed to find their feet again, others hadn't had anywhere else to go but down.

Cullen knew he wasn't the only one who had noticed the growing tensions in the city. A person would have to be blind and deaf not to see the discontent. He just hoped...

... well, he hoped for a lot of things.

Shaking his head, he kept walking towards the ramshackle clinic that the templars had been given strict orders to ignore. The Knight Commander might not be happy about having her hands tied when it came to punishing Warden mages, but she was even less pleased by the idea of some of her templars disobeying direct orders from her. And if the rumors that had reached Meredith's ears were true, then Cullen was going to have a long night ahead of him.

He was still several minutes away from the clinic when he felt his skin begin to prickle, a sign that someone was most likely using a significant amount of magic nearby. Cullen froze for just a moment, his eyes warily moving around the dark, dirty streets before he heard the clear sound of lightning crackling in the direction that he was heading.

Cullen took off sprinting.

When he rushed around the last corner before reaching the latest home of Kirkwall's not-so-secret underground clinic, the scene in front of him wasn't surprising in the least bit. There were three templars in the somewhat open area in front of the clinic, fighting with Amell, Hawke, and another woman wearing a Warden uniform. A fourth templar was still and unmoving in the clinic's doorway. Anders was just inside, electricity crackling from his fingertips as he stared down at the templar that was either unconscious or dead at his feet.

"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered under his breath before clearing his lungs and bellowing: "What is the meaning of this!?"

He wasn't surprised that the oldest of the templars there, a man named Darrian who was a good fifteen years Cullen's senior and generally regarded as an ass, took advantage of the distraction to send out a smite. Amell stumbled slightly, her staff dropping from her hands, before she spun around and knocked him to the ground with a well-placed kick between his legs.

It caught Cullen by surprise almost as much as it did Darrian. The woman that he remembered from the Circle back in Ferelden wasn't prone to using physical attacks. Then again, she hadn't particularly been prone to using magical ones either before she had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens, at least not that he had been aware.

He supposed that the Blight had changed everyone who lived through it, in one way or another.

The other two templars, Amalia and Tomish, had a bit more sense than their compatriot. They stilled their attacks, watching warily to make certain that Hawke and the other Warden – who Cullen thought might be Hawke's younger sister, the one who had left with the Tethras expedition and never returned, based solely on her resemblance to both the Champion and Amell – weren't going to take advantage before bringing their weapons down.

Cullen continued in their direction. "I asked a question," he asked coldly, his gaze moving over the scene. "What is happening here?"

Darrian let out a groan from where he was sprawled on the ground. He didn't particularly seem to be in the position to talk just then.

Amalia took a step forward. "We were defending ourselves from these _mages_ ," she spat out. "They attacked us, and—"

"I was referring to the fact that the four of my templars are here in the first place," Cullen said, cutting Amalia off. "Against direct orders."

Amalia glared at him, but she had enough sense not to speak. On the ground, Darrian spat some blood out of his mouth. "Fucking mages," he muttered. "I thought you knew better than to trust them, Knight Captain."

"I don't trust mages," Cullen said firmly, his eyes darting towards Amell for a moment before he could stop them. He saw her tense, just slightly, before he turned his attention back towards his templars. "That doesn't mean I don't know how to do what I'm told."

Amalia and Darrian were both still glaring at him. Tomish looked like he wanted to be anywhere else just then.

"Knight Commander Meredith gave you orders," Cullen said coolly, forcing his attention to stay focused on the present and not the past. "She suspected you wouldn't listen, so she sent me here just in case." He glared at them. "It turns out she was right."

Tomish, at least, didn't look like he wanted to cause any more trouble for himself than he already had. He'd always been easily led by others, and Cullen suspected he'd rather run than fight if given half a chance. He wasn't so certain about Darrian and Amalia. They were older, and they both knew Meredith wouldn't hesitate to put them on quarter lyrium rations for a stunt like this one, if she didn't kick them out of the order entirely. It wasn't the first time they'd crossed a line with her, but it might very well be the last.

Behind them, Amell pointedly cleared her throat. Cullen's gaze moved back towards her.

"I'm glad to see that these templars aren't here on the orders of Knight Commander Meredith," she said. Then she tilted her head, an almost curious expression appearing on her face as she looked at him.

Cullen supposed he couldn't blame her, not considering what had been said the last time they were face to face. It was neither the time nor the place, though, nor was he particularly comfortable with being around what seemed to be three Warden mages.

"The templars still follow the rules of the Chantry," he said curtly, looking away from her and back towards his templars...

... just in time for Darrian to push himself up off the ground and shove a dagger through one of the weak points in Cullen's armor. "Fuck Meredith and fuck you," the man spat out. "If you all disappear, she won't have any proof it was us."

Cullen gasped, the wind temporarily driven out of his lungs at the unexpected attack. He heard Amalia curse, followed by the sound of metal clanging against metal as she presumably tried to attack Hawke.

Damn it. He should have seen that coming. He'd seen firsthand what the threat of being removed from the Order could lead templars to do, after all. Desperation was a powerful thing.

Darrian yanked the dagger out of Cullen's chest, a grim look on his face as he made to stab him again. Before he had a chance, there was a brief burst of _something_ , and the next thing Cullen knew Amell had somehow ended up between the two of them.

"I don't think so," she said, and her voice was like ice.

Cullen tried to take in a deep breath, to attempt to bring the situation back under control, but all that did was send a sharp, stabbing pain through his chest. He could feel darkness edging in at the corners of his vision, and then the world went grey for a moment. Or perhaps a lifetime. It was difficult to tell.

The next thing Cullen was truly aware of was that he was on the dirty ground of Darktown, the taste of copper in his mouth and the feel of magic practically clinging to the air around him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, before he realized that Amell was leaning over him, a faint glow slowing fading from her hands.

Her eyes were wide, something shining in them that he couldn't quite interpret. "Cullen?" she asked, and he would have sworn that it was worry in her voice no matter how impossible that was. "How do you feel? The dagger went deep, but I think—"

"Don't use your magic on me," Cullen spat out, cutting her off as he practically pushed her hands away. He flinched at the hurt look on her face, but he did his best to play it off as a more physical reaction as he tried to prop himself up into a sitting position.

It wasn't that difficult to give that impression. It had been close. Too close. He could tell by the way his chest ached, even after the magical healing.

Amell stared at him, an almost surprised look on her face. She quickly schooled it into a blank one, a familiar mask that Cullen had seen exactly once before. At least, he thought he'd seen it before. His memories of those last few hours in Kinloch, before and just after the Wardens had arrived were... hazy, at best.

He looked away, trying to push aside the wave of memories _that_ thought had brought on.

Cullen took advantage of his not wanting to meet Amell's gaze to take a quick look around. The body that he'd noticed when he'd first come to the scene was still unmoving, pointing towards whoever it had been being dead. Franklin, perhaps, or maybe Perrish. They were the ones who usually got dragged into things along with Amalia and Darrian. Speaking of which, both of them were sprawled unmoving on the ground as well. There wasn't any sign of Tomish, so he had probably run the moment things had started looking bad.

Anders was standing outside his clinic now, an unamused expression on his face as he stared at Cullen. Then he snorted. There wasn't any humor in the sound. "Some things never change."

Hawke elbowed him in the side. "Not now," she muttered under her breath, although it was still loud enough for Cullen to hear.

The Warden mage who bore such a strong resemblance to both Hawke and Amell was standing near them, a rather curious look on her face. There was a faint cut on the right side of her face, a tiny stream of blood trickling down the side of her face. She reached up to wipe it away.

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment and started to take a deep breath, turning it into a shallower one when his still aching chest protested. Then he turned back towards Solona. Amell. Towards _Amell_.

Amell stared at Cullen for a long moment, her face expressionless. Then she pushed herself back to her feet. "Fine," she said coldly. "If you don't want my help, then I'll be damned if I waste any more time on you."

A memory flashed in his mind for just a moment, breathless laughter and quiet murmurs and stolen kisses when no one else was watching. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in his chest as he watched her stomp over to Hawke. She whispered something to her cousin that was too quiet for him to hear before heading off down one of the dark streets nearby, the Warden mage and Anders both following after her.

Hawke shook her head as she stood still and watched them disappear into the darkness. Then she walked over towards where Cullen was still sitting on the ground.

"I sent one of the street kids up to the Hanged Man to find Fenris while you were out of it," Hawke said, shooting him a quicksilver grin as she offered him her hand. "Maybe Sebastian too, if he's there. I figured you could use some help dragging the bodies back to the Gallows."

Cullen grimaced as she pulled him to his feet. "I appreciate your assistance, Champion."

Hawke shrugged. "It's the least I can do," she said. "I mean, I did help kill them. I'd rather be there to make sure Meredith gets the whole story and not some version of it that blames me for everything."

Cullen flinched slightly at that, but he didn't argue. He wouldn't necessarily put it past the Knight Commander to twist words around. It had happened before.

He pointedly tried not to think about the fact that perhaps Hawke was worried he might do the same thing.

"Sol told me that the two of you were close," Hawke said after a pause, shooting him a curious look. "Back before the Blight, when she was still in the Circle."

For a long moment, Cullen didn't say anything.

Eventually, he let out a tired sigh, his gaze darting off into the darkness before coming back to focus on the Champion. "I suspect that I barely knew her."

*

"Knight Captain Cullen?" There was an awkward pause. "Or would it be Knight Commander now?"

Cullen looked up from the stack of papers he was trying to work his way through, frowning at the young templar hovering in the doorway. What was her name? He had a vague recollection of her family name being Smythe, but her given name was a blank in his mind. 

She was barely grown, a new recruit only partially trained. Normally, Cullen wouldn't be dealing with her at all for at least a few years. But the youngest recruits were mainly what he was left with in the aftermath of everything that had happened over the course of the past several days, so he was working with many more new faces than he was used to.

Not that there was much of a point in having templars in a Circle without any mages in it.

"It's still Knight Captain," Cullen said, taking pity on the young recruit who was clearly nervous at her sudden, unexpected promotion. He paused for a moment before adding: "Officially, at least. There haven't been any official missives from Val Royeaux yet, so I have no idea where things might stand in a few days."

Probably-Smythe nodded slowly. Then she bit her lip, a conflicted expression on her face.

Cullen narrowed his eyes slightly. "I recognize that look," he said, reaching up to rub his suddenly aching temples. "How bad is the news?"

There was an awkward pause as she shifted uncomfortably. Then, quietly, she said: "They think they've found Anders, Knight Captain."

Cullen went still. "Where?"

"About a day's journey outside the city, with Hawke and several of her company." She paused again before adding, in barely above a whisper: "They were with some Grey Wardens."

Cullen closed his eyes.

There was another pause before probably-Smythe cleared her throat. "Should we send a contingent after them?" she asked nervously. "Most of templars are out in the city, helping the Guard, but there are still a few left here in the Gallows."

For a moment, Cullen was tempted. It didn't matter what Meredith had done to the mages, what she had _become_ there at the end. Nothing could justify what Anders had done to Kirkwall.

Solona's face flashed in his mind, a cold look on her face as she stood fearlessly before Meredith and told her off. She either approved of what Anders did, in which case she would protect him, or she was horrified by it, in which case she would probably kill him herself. Either way, sending templars after Grey Wardens would only end in more death.

And there had been more than enough death recently.

Cullen opened his eyes. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Grey Wardens see to their own."

A relieved look flashed across the recruit's face, there and gone so quickly that Cullen might have missed it if he hadn't been looking. He'd placed her accent by then, though, a mix of Ferelden and Kirkwall. She would have just been a child when the Blight had happened, one of the many refugees who'd made their way to Free Marches.

He could understand why she wouldn't want to try to fight Grey Wardens, no matter who they were.

"We need to focus on Kirkwall for now," Cullen said. "Anything outside our walls will have to wait."

The recruit nodded. She started to turn towards the door before hesitating. "Knight Captain?"

Cullen resisted the urge to sigh. Barely. "Yes?" 

"There's a rumor that a Seeker of Truth was seen entering the city this morning," she said.

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows a bit at that. "A rumor?" he repeated. "And does the person who began this rumor have a name?"

She flushed slightly. "It was Jackson, Knight Captain," she said. "At least, he's the one who told me. He said a Nevarran woman dressed like a Seeker grabbed him when she saw his armor and made him tell her where to find the Hanged Man."

Cullen stared at her for a moment before letting his gaze drop back down to the stack of paperwork he was trying to work his way through. Meredith's records the past few years had been shoddy at best, not anything like the meticulous ones he remembered her keeping when he had first been transferred to Kirkwall. He'd been trying to piece together just where everything had gone wrong, preparing what he could for the inevitable representative that the Chantry would send.

It sounded as if he might be running out of time.

"Thank you for letting me know," Cullen said tiredly. He reached up to rub his eyes, suddenly aware that they were burning slightly. He hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep recently.

Probably-Smythe nodded at him before slipping back out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. The room settled back into silence.

Cullen let out the sigh he'd been holding back. "A Seeker of Truth," he said quietly. "Maker's Breath, what now?"

*

Cullen wasn't particularly surprised to walk into his office in Skyhold and see Hawke sitting on his desk. He stopped in the doorway and let out a sigh. "Really, Hawke?"

Hawke grinned at him. "What?" she asked. "You didn't have a chair. What kind of person doesn't have a chair?"

"The type of person who doesn't have time to sit down," Cullen replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

She rolled her eyes. "Varric was right," she said. "You need to learn how to take a break."

Cullen shot her an unimpressed look.

If anything, Hawke's roguish grin grew even wider as she jumped down off of his desk and back to the floor. She was up to something. He didn't know what, but he knew not to trust her.

"Do you need something?" Cullen asked, finally making his way into the room. He slipped past Hawke and started putting some of the papers she'd moved back where they belonged.

Hawke laughed. "You stole my line," she said teasingly. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Cullen didn't even glance at her. "If it involves Wicked Grace, the answer is 'no.'"

"I'm heartbroken that you would think so little of me," Hawke said with a theatrical gasp. "Do I really seem like the type who would let Varric convince me to—"

She cut off abruptly, shaking her head. "No, sorry," she said. "I can't say that with a straight face. It's impossible even for me."

Cullen could feel the corner of his mouth trying to turn upward, and he did his best to force his expression to stay neutral. He'd learned the hard way that giving any type of reaction simply encouraged Hawke when she was in a mood like this one.

"I assume you will eventually come to a point?" Cullen asked dryly.

"You're a spoilsport," Hawke said cheerfully. "I'm tempted not to warn you now."

Cullen simply raised his eyebrows at her.

Hawke lasted for approximately five seconds before she let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine," she said with a teasing lilt to her tone. "Considering how things went last time, I thought you'd want to know that my cousin arrived a little bit ago with my sister and a handful of Ferelden Wardens who apparently had more sense than the Orlesian ones in tow."

While Cullen wasn't entirely certain what he'd been expecting to come out of Hawke's mouth, it hadn't been that.

He stared at Hawke blankly for a moment, a thousand different thoughts running through his head. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it.

"Did I break you?" Hawke asked, tilting her head.

"Sol—" Cullen cut himself off, clearing his throat a bit. "Amell is here?"

Hawke smirked at him. There was no other word for it. "You can call her Solona, you know," she said. "Most people do. She usually only insists on Amell from people she's pissed off at."

Cullen flinched.

The amusement on Hawke's face faded slightly. "She wasn't that thrilled with you back in Kirkwall, was she?" she asked. He had the feeling it was a rhetorical question. "Still, she was furious with Anders, and he's back to calling her Sol, so—"

"Please tell me that _Anders_ isn't one of the Wardens that she brought with her," Cullen said, his voice a bit more strangled than he'd meant for it to be as he cut her off.

Hawke almost managed to hide the guilty look on her face. She didn't quite manage it, but she came close.

Cullen sat down on his desk.

There was a long, awkward silence. Then Hawke cleared her throat. "Do you want me to see if I can find you a chair?"

"Go away, Hawke," Cullen said, not even trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice. "Just... go away, please?"

There was another pause. "So about Wicked Grace—"

"Out, Hawke!"

With a wink that could almost be considered indecent on its own, Hawke opened the door and finally left him in peace. He was relieved to see that she shut the door behind her.

Cullen buried his face in his hands.

There was a tinge of pain behind his eyes, and he knew without a doubt that he'd be fighting a severe headache within the hour. He was used to them by then. Stress always brought them out, and stress was one of the few things that the Inquisition always had in droves.

Damn it. He didn't want to think about the political implications of the Hero of Ferelden showing up at Skyhold with a bunch of Ferelden Wardens. Hawke had been talking about heading to Weisshaupt for weeks after Adamant, only to stop abruptly. He should have known something was happening. She'd clearly heard from Solona, and—

And when had he started thinking of her as Solona again instead of Amell? Skyhold? Haven? The ship out of Kirkwall? Even before then? He honestly didn't know.

Cullen hadn't realized just how much of a poison Kirkwall had been until he'd left it behind him. He wasn't foolish. He couldn't blame the city for the things that he'd done and said and thought. The hatred he'd felt towards mages had come from within him. But he couldn't help but wonder if he would have held onto that hatred quite as tightly as he had if he'd been somewhere else.

He supposed he'd never know.

A sharp, throbbing pain made itself known near the corner of his left eye. He groaned, moving his hands up so that he could press the heels of his hands against the pained area.

Cullen didn't have the time for a breakdown, not then. He had reports to read, and troops to deploy, and papers to sign, and if the Ferelden Wardens really were in Skyhold then he was certain there would be a meeting called within the hour. He didn't have any time to spare.

Except he couldn't quite force his legs to move so that he could stand up.

The door to his office opened with a quiet click. He couldn't quite find the energy to look towards it, but he could tell that whoever it was had pushed it open when the room flooded with more light.

"Whatever it is, can it wait?" Cullen asked tiredly.

For a moment, whoever it was didn't say anything. Then a familiar yet completely unexpected voice said: "Marian really did break you, didn't she?"

Cullen's head darted up, his gaze immediately shooting towards the doorway. He pushed himself up off his desk so that he was standing again.

Solona Amell was standing just inside the door, a slightly amused look on her face that quickly faded into a concerned one. "You look horrible."

Cullen blinked at her in surprise for a moment before letting out a tired sigh. "Thank you," he said dryly.

Solona flushed slightly, looking younger and more like the girl he remembered from a lifetime ago. "Sorry," she said. "That didn't come out the way I meant it to."

Cullen gave her a half-hearted shrug. "You're far from being the first one to make that comment."

If anything, her flush grew even darker.

The two of them stood there in an awkward silence. For Cullen's part, he didn't even know where to begin. It had been years since the last time he'd seen her and over a decade since they'd really had a chance to talk. Not to mention the fact that the last thing he'd said to her – the last several things he'd said to her – had been less than kind.

"I was surprised when Marian told me you were in charge of the Inquisition's forces." Solona's voice was softer than he had expected, but he wasn't surprised to see her studying his face closely as she spoke. "I heard that you made an alliance with the rebel mages."

Cullen nodded. "Yes," he said simply. Then he hesitated before adding, a bit reluctantly: "I will admit that I wasn't particularly pleased with the idea."

"I can understand that," Solona said, tilting her head slightly. "You have better reasons than most not to trust mages."

He couldn't help but flinch at that. Her tone wasn't particularly accusing, but the words by themselves were a bit damning. "It doesn't excuse some of my past actions."

Solona shook her head. "No, it doesn't," she said matter-of-factly, "but it does make them a bit more understandable."

There wasn't really anything Cullen could say to that. He couldn't change the past, and both of them knew it. All they could do was press forward.

They settled back into a somewhat awkward silence.

"I'm glad to see you're well," Cullen said finally, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Considering what happened with the Orlesian Wardens, we were starting to fear the worst."

Solona flashed him a quicksilver grin. "Tssk," she said. "My Wardens will be disappointed to hear that a fellow Ferelden thought so little of them."

Cullen felt the corner of his lips turning up, almost of their own accord. "Yes, well, consider me chastised."

She let out a quiet laugh before walking closer to him. Then, as limber as a girl despite the fact that he knew she couldn't have been more than a year younger than him, if that, she gracefully sunk to the floor and crossed her legs under her. She quirked her eyebrows up at him as she patted the floor beside her.

He stared at her for a long moment before letting out an amused huff. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered as he gingerly sat down beside her.

"You're the one who doesn't have any chairs in his office," Solona said with a shrug.

Cullen couldn't really argue with that, so he didn't even try. He just tilted his head and really looked at her for the first time in over a decade.

Solona looked older. It was to be expected, of course, but he hadn't realized just how much his mental image of her was based on the girl he'd known prior to everything going so wrong at Kinloch. Her hair was longer, pulled back into tight braids rather than flying loose like it had once upon a time. He could see a few glints of silver mixed in with the darker strands. There weren't many of them, not yet, but there were a few. They showed more clearly in her dark hair than his blond.

There was a scar under her right eye that he didn't remember, going worrisomely close to the eye itself before trailing away. The look in her eyes, though, that was something completely different from the Solona in her memories.

Freedom suited her.

It took Cullen longer than it should have to realize that Solona was looking at him just as curiously as he was looking at her. He could only imagine what she was seeing. He flushed a bit under her gaze and reached up to uncomfortably rub the back of his neck.

Solona smiled. "My cousin was right," she said teasingly. "You look younger when you blush."

Cullen resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands again. Barely. Instead, he pointedly brought his hand back down to rest in his lap.

After a moment, Solona reached out towards him. Cullen had the impression that she was reaching for his hand, but she hesitated partway there and started to pull her own hand back.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he reached out to grab it.

The moment his hand touched hers, Cullen felt a rush of memories threatening to run through his head. He pushed back against them the best he could, shoving them back into the dark corners of his mind, but a few flashes made it through. Some were of happier times: smiles and whispers and a few hurried kisses when no one was paying attention. But others... well, the demons had been thorough.

Cullen couldn't help it. He flinched.

"Cullen?"

Solona started to pull her hand away, but he quickly tightened his grip. Then he shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, finally managing to press the past back where it belonged. He met her gaze as steadily as he could.

She shot him a skeptical look, but she didn't argue. Solona had been there when Kinloch fell, after all. Maybe not for all of it, but she'd seen the horrors of it. She knew what the demons did to the mages and templars both within the Circle's walls.

After a long moment, Solona squeezed his hand and gave him a bittersweet smile.

*

Cullen should have known better than to let _anyone_ talk him into playing Wicked Grace again. The word "no" had been on the tip of his tongue, but then Varric dragged Hawke into it, who in turn threw Solona at him, and... and...

He was quickly finding out that he had as much trouble saying "no" to Solona Amell now as he had a decade and some change ago.

"I could give you my scarf?" Solona offered, her eyes twinkling. "It would cover everything that needs covering, I think."

Cullen shot her an incredulous look and took a step further back into the shrubbery that he was currently hiding in. "Your scarf," he said, "would cover _almost nothing_."

She grinned at him, not even trying to hide her amusement. "The 'almost' is a fairly important distinction."

He groaned. "I hate you and everyone else who was at that table."

Solona threw back her head and laughed. She'd been doing that more and more over the past few weeks, and it never ceased to make Cullen want to smile. Oh, he knew that she was still the Hero of Ferelden and a Warden Commander who could probably kill him without a thought if she really wanted to do so.

But it was hard to remember that whenever she laughed or shot him a cocky grin.

With an exaggeratedly disappointed huff, Solona pulled off her robes. She was wearing a light tunic and trousers under it that, while perhaps not quite appropriate for someone of her standing, she seemed quite comfortable in.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes as she held the robes out towards him. "If you're going to deny Skyhold such a handsome view, then you can wrap this around your waist at least."

Cullen couldn't have stopped his blush if he'd tried. He reluctantly reached out to take the offered robes and attempted to hide as much skin as he could with them.

When he glanced back at Solona a moment or two later, she was clearly hiding a smile with her hand. She quickly smoothed out her expression when she saw him looking at her, but the corners of her mouth were still twitching slightly.

"Well then," she said, holding out her arm towards him, "shall we be off?"

"Maker's breath," he muttered. "Are you really going to make me walk arm-in-arm with you all the way back to my office? Like _this_?"

Solona's mouth twitched a bit harder, as if she was struggling not to laugh.

With a sigh, Cullen took her arm and reluctantly let her lead him towards the stairs that led up onto the wall. It was late enough at night that there were only a handful of people still out and about, most of them his soldiers and Leliana's scouts, and he pointedly avoided any of their gazes. He wasn't entirely certain what he would see on their faces, and he'd rather it stay that way.

Of course, the fact that Solona was purposefully greeting every person they came across made that someone difficult.

"You're enjoying this," Cullen muttered under his breath as they finally reached his office. Solona was waving cheerfully to a blushing aide that was hurrying off. 

"Oh, immensely," Solona said without a hint of shame.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door to his office and walked inside.

Solona followed him.

"Are you planning on following me upstairs?" Cullen asked in amusement. He flushed a bit as he realized just how that probably sounded, but he forced himself not to try back-pedaling. He knew from past experience that would only make it sound worse.

She smirked at him. "That depends," she said lightly.

Cullen crossed his arms in front of his chest. "On?"

"On what happens when I take my robe back," Solona said brightly, just as she reached out and deftly pulled on the robe that was wrapped around his waist. It slipped off of him in an instant, and she pulled it away.

It took quite a bit of effort not to react, but Cullen forced himself to keep standing there. He knew that it was somewhat undermined by the fact that his face was probably bright red, but he did his best to stay as collected as he could.

Solona glanced downwards, her eyebrows lifting a bit before she turned her gaze back towards his face. She didn't say anything, nor did she make any move towards him.

Cullen wasn't a fool. She was leaving the next move up to him. If he asked her to leave, she'd do so without any complaint.

He closed his eyes for a moment. This wasn't Kinloch. He wasn't a templar any longer, and she wasn't one of his charges. They were simply two people who both had a past. As for the future, well, that depended on him.

Without a word, he opened his eyes and tilted his head a bit, looking at her. She was still standing there patiently, not pressing one way or the other.

"I think," Cullen said quietly, his gaze still meeting hers, "that we should take this upstairs."

Solona's face lit up as she smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on Tumblr. (http://settiai.tumblr.com/)


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